


Under Pressure

by velithya



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: M/M, Sol grudingly has some feelings I guess, WIP Amnesty, War Era, this is just sex, this will never be finished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14274975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velithya/pseuds/velithya
Summary: Here in the darkened tent, there's nothing else - no army, no Gears, no threat that every day could be the day they die.





	Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> ~WIP AMNESTY~
> 
> I started writing this in 2009 for a friend's birthday and never ended up finishing it. WIP Amnesty means it will still never be finished but everyone else might as well enjoy what's there in the meantime :)
> 
> Title from Queen because they're Sol's fav.

  
**Under Pressure**

Ky gives his tells silently, or mostly-silently - Sol reads the clench of his fingers, on his arms, or in his hair, the desperate press of lips against his, the little gasps for air he makes as Sol grinds slow against him. Sometimes he shudders into groans, partially strangled words in liquid French that Sol lets wash over him. Sol works towards there, because there's a point, every time, when Ky gives in, throws his propriety to hell, bites Sol's lip and moans and grinds back, and it's the best thing Sol's ever seen.

The first time he says words - actual words - they're low and growling, emphasis of command belying the pink flush to his cheeks, still unsure of his place in the world, in Sol's world, despite all evidence and proof to the contrary.

"God, Sol, _do that again_ ," he commands, and Sol jerks almost helplessly against him.

Here in the darkened tent, there's nothing else - no army, no Gears, no threat that every day could be the day they die. Just them, the press of their bodies, Ky's hands digging into his back and Sol's body singing with it, helpless but to obey.

Sol shifts his hand and slides it up again, and Ky makes an inarticulate noise and tosses his head back. It's too dark for most people to see, but Sol can see just fine - Ky's eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open and gasping, and long line of his throat. Sol leans forward and scrapes his teeth from jaw line to collarbone, Ky's throat working under his tongue as he gasps for air.

Sol still doesn't really know what he's doing here, why he keeps coming back, but it's hard to remember that when Ky writhes under him, nails digging scratches into his back that will be gone before morning.

" _More_ ," Ky demands, voice hoarse, and Sol complies almost instantly, glancing up just long enough to see Ky's eyes all but roll back in his head.

He feels - he feels he _should_ be the one in control, Ky's body shuddering now with every stroke his hands make, but instead he feels constrained, that although things around him are spinning wildly out of control Ky is still directing him, leashing him with the press of his body and the touch of his fingers, pinpricks of pain against his back. He doesn't like the feeling.

"Sol," Ky groans, arching up against him, and Sol puts everything aside for the moment because _this_ , this is something he savours every time, all the more this time for Ky using actual _words_. " _Sol_ -"

Ky throws his head back again, eyes wide and staring at nothing, and a second later he shudders again, short jerks of his hips that leave Sol's hand sticky. Sol slows his hand, Ky's hips still twitching underneath him as Ky gasps for air, his eyes falling closed.


End file.
